


Purgatory

by russianwinter013



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anarchism (Eventual), Angst, Cannibalism, Disturbing Themes, Gore, Mental Instability, Multi, Political Radicalism (Eventual)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianwinter013/pseuds/russianwinter013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am a monster, that I know. I have done many horrific things, all ending in horror and massacres that merely sated my own hunger and bloodlust. No matter where I go, I am a danger to all, and it is only a matter of time before my methods end up destroying everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, Mirage is a Decepticon known as Whiteshadow. He is not known as Mirage until he defects.
> 
> This story is the prequel to a much longer story that I am still writing called "Not Alone." It will be posted on FanFiction, under the same username I use here, before it will be on AO3.

My spark was boiling.

It was an incessant ache buried deep in my chest, hindering my phantasmal movements and thoughts.

It was clouding my judgment.

I  _hated_ that.

Mouthplates curling back in a snarl, my talons sunk deep into the bloodstained ground. Unrelenting tremors ran through me and hoarse puffs of air left my flared vents.

The land was screaming. Mouth gaping and teeth bared and lips cracked and burned and bleeding...

_Hungry._

Wings twitched high on my back, fanning out wide and spreading out the burning and deliciously toxic air around me. A shudder ran through my body.

Cascading winds picked up the scents of approaching beings. Smoke and ash swayed in an eerie dance around me, clinging to and lapping at my plating with a cruel grace.

Fire burned within me. Acid ate through my metal flesh.

_Fight._

A moan left my bloody mouthplates, welcome pain tearing through me as I began to rock on my pedes and shiver.

I had attacked them all relentlessly. I did not really mean to. But I am not really all that nice when I am annoyed beyond all means.

They had figured it out the hard way.

They were all fools.

Every last one of them.

All wrapped in their fantasies of protection and power. Things that would only bring them pain and suffering. And then they would turn and blame  _us_ for such a thing. For  _their_ misguided intentions and interpretations of ideologies and dreams of things that should never have been touched at all.

Idiots.

It had pleased me to no ends when I had carved out their sparks before their very optics. They had screamed, as if I would ever listen to their disgusting cries for mercy that they did not deserve.

I had consumed their sparks whole. They had been oh so delicious.

I could still taste and feel the lingering presence of the sizzling energy and blood and sparking circuitry wires that had only temporarily sated my hunger.

Pain curled within me, muttering contentedly. A low whine left my vocalizer, and wings flared as I moaned softly. Shaking my helm repeatedly, I choked on the thick and horrifically pleasing scent and taste of the blood and remains of my victims laying cold and lifeless around me.

My sword whispered. Murmured futile words of comfort. Helpful words of recognition and solace.

It was begging and taunting and laughing, filling my helm with useless nonsense noise.

No. Not that. Nothing, _anything_ but that.

I coughed heavily, bringing up darkly colored Energon. My claws grasped blindly at the ground, hooking into the decaying servo of a femme that had looked at me the wrong way. My temper was worsening, but I tried to control it.

I am not known for my control. Or rather, I am known for my lack of control. Either way, control is by no means a trait associated with me in a positive manner.

My scars were burning, gentle reminders of the suffering I went through daily.

Writhing. My spark was writhing now. Twisting and churning inside its chamber as it roared in agony.

I was on my knees, murmuring to myself and rocking even faster. Another whine rose deep in my throat, this time backed by the growling of my engines.

Hunger overrode every sane thought. Dark desire crushed my spark.

I had to move.

Had to get out of here. Had to hide from the omniscient inferno, and the prying optics and the decaying minds.

A flash of obsidian. Swathes of crimson and pure silver battled for my straining attention.

"Assassin."

Deep and hoarse and rumbling. Something was approaching me, attempting to be as predatory and stealthy as I was.

It was not working.

They were not working properly, and I had to fix that.

My sword was beginning to growl and hiss, spitting foul curses and jeering with a dark hatred. It was twisting my spark, my body, my mind.

"Come back, assassin."

No. Leave me alone. Leave me alone, _leave me alone, **leave me alone.**_

_Let me bathe in the tortured screams of my prey that dare snarl in delight at my pain..._

There was a presence nearing me. A churning maelstrom of emotions surrounded the dark haze.

"Whiteshadow. Come back."

I snarled, baring fanged dentia as I shuddered. My armor rippled and my wings shivered. My sword did not like who or whatever was approaching me. It warped my train of thought, sending it off the tracks and veering into the fiery pit below with a horrific screech that was oh so pleasing to my battered audio receptors.

A thundering snarl sounded, tearing apart the silence seam by seam.

The silence did not like that. I could hear its screams of agony. I could taste its rage.

It was better than the faint and lingering bitter sensation of ash.

There was a faint prickle at my side, crawling its way up to sink into the Energon lines in my neck. I growled and whipped around, wings flared and engines roaring alongside my rage as I pinned my disturber to the smoked and bloody ground. My talons sunk deep into metal plating with a chilling ease. Who would _dare_ to interrupt me?

Golden optics blazed up at me, strangely devoid of emotion despite the fact that my sword was carving its way into their neck. There were thin and almost minute cracks in the crystalline visor that futilely attempted to cover those burning amber depths, spreading out like webs or a ruthless infection with no chance of a cure.

I grinned, long dentia bared as I leaned close to trail my poisoned glossa over those full and delicious mouthplates. No...perhaps my glossa was tricking me. I was sick and poisoned. Anything would have a pleasing taste to me.

Pain exploded in the back of my neck, and the demonic roar that escaped me was enough to send the Unmaker to the hills. Acid tore through me. My wings shuddered and my spark screamed in vicious delight.

A shudder ran through my body as I groaned, shuttering my optics as acid fire tore through me. I shook my helm, wings fanning the air as vertigo began to overwhelm me. My tanks churned and my vision became unfocused.

My spark did not like what was happening to me. It began to roar, protesting as my body became heavy and motionless.

A moan left my charred throat as I trembled, attempting to fight off the poison rising deep within me.

Stop it, _stop it, **stop it!**_

"Whiteshadow!"

The world spun and righted itself, crashing down with a brutal efficiency. With a groan I pushed myself over on my side, retching and expelling the half-processed gelled Energon and the blood I had consumed earlier.

My current team was standing over me, electromagnetic fields pulsing strongly to display their irritation and slight concern. The largest, the obsidian and golden-eyed mech who had pinned me to the ground, was the first to speak.

"You are not in good health, assassin." His voice was a rumble that would have frightened anyone but myself. I was considered sparkless, and believed it too. After all, one was what they believed they were, were they not?

My wings flared wide as I took a steadying vent, raising my servo to clear away any fluids still clinging to my faceplate. "Your ability to state the obvious continues to displease me, Six Changer." With a motion of my free servo, the rest of my team helped me stand. I wavered on my pedes and shuttered my optics briefly as I fought another urge to purge my tanks.

Beside me, the smallest member of my team, a brooding femme Seeker by the designation of Nightwish, gave a deep rumble as she resettled her armor over her lean and powerful frame. "If you merely kept yourself in optimal condition he would not have to point out the obvious."

My engine growled and I suppressed a shudder as I fought to keep myself from attacking. "I do not have to explain myself to the likes of you."

"I would not want to if I were you, either," she muttered darkly, tilting her helm with a deceiving smirk.

There was a deep growl as another mech loped in to my field of view. The fire roaring around us glinted off of his matte black armor as his endless dark optics blazed dangerously. "We have matters elsewhere, so cease your incessant chatter so we can leave." The second largest of the group, this mech was one to be feared immensely. He was part of a cybertoxin outbreak that caused him to develop a demented thirst for blood that rivaled that of nearly all the warmongers and tyrants known in our extensive history. That being said, he was not a mech one should toy with.

Neither was I.

_...as I tore into the belly of the beast that had made the mistake of confronting me._

_I threw my helm back and gave a chilling cry of pleasure, bathed in the bloodbath surrounding me._

_I cradled the spark of the newborn close to me, letting the presence and hum of my spark comfort it. No one would ever harm it but me..._

Trembling, I swayed on my pedes, optics flickering as I fought to stay conscious. My legs had decided to give out on me, and the Seeker holding me gave a startled hiss as I collapsed.

I could not cycle air properly.

The heat was affecting me.

Choking me as I tried to sink my fangs into it.

A futile attempt, it was.

I was beginning to act like the very upper class mechs and femmes that I had devoured mere joors ago...

The Six Changer cursed, streams of words that would make even the coldest of mechs, excluding me, shiver. Moving with a speed and grace that belied his colossal frame, he crouched in front of me, amber optics alight with a fire that should have belonged in the deepest pits of hell.

He glared venomously at me, the mandible components of his jaw clenched tight as he pressed his immense weight over me.

"You will stop this. You are stronger."

Stronger? No, I was not. I was weak, pathetic...resorting to having to devour the _upper_ class in order to survive.

They were disgusting. All doused in perfumes and expensive polishes and waxes. They were part of the reason I had just purged.

I coughed up more Energon, shuddering even as I internally delighted at the dark taste.

I was sick. A sick, sick being with no hope for a cure.

"He is deteriorating."

"Clearly."

"If it were up to me, I would leave him here."

A bitter snarl and grumble followed by a clang and an incensed hiss. "We cannot."

"He is the key to our survival."

A displeased snort. "Even if it costs us our own lives?"

Shadows played with the wiring of my optics. I moaned, curling in on myself as I shivered.

There was a veil of shiny black looming over me. Heavy weight settled on my body, and I snapped at the intruder with a feral hiss. I did not like the touch.

"Yes. Even at the cost of our own lives."

The pain in my neck appeared once more, and before I could protest, I was forced to submit to the waiting blackness.


End file.
